


And watch all your dreams fall through

by endearinglysad



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP, Wincest - Freeform, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endearinglysad/pseuds/endearinglysad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally takes what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And watch all your dreams fall through

**Author's Note:**

> For [blindfold_spn](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/576.html), round 1. Prompt: Sam/Dean, forced blowjob. Title from "The Interview" by AFI.

Dean wasn’t drunk. He was, however, freshly fucked.

But it wasn’t adrenaline or endorphins or fucking _afterglow_ or whatever that made his hand shake as he oh-so-quietly turned the key and opened the door of the latest by-the-hour crap-hole they were staying in. Oh, he’d enjoyed the sex, and fuck if he hadn’t come hard, face pressed into the dirty back wall of the bar he’d run to when he just couldn’t look at Sam anymore and not—

He was just tired. That’s all.

The room was dark and he entered quietly, shutting the door behind him and sweeping the salt line he’d accidentally disturbed back into place with the toe of his boot. He couldn’t hear Sam breathing over the wheezing rush of the air-conditioning, but the unmoving tree-sized lump on his brother’s bed told Dean that Sam was asleep (or pretending to be). Either way he was off the hook, as far as conversation went at least. Relief, and a shower, and then maybe he could sleep.

Plenty of hot water in the middle of the night (and enough time to recharge before morning), so Dean took his time, let clear water and complimentary soap rinse the back-alley slime from his skin, steam and just-this side of too-hard pressure relax muscles that were just starting to ache. Soapy hand across his chest, down, up and around, cleaning the wrong man’s sweat and fingerprints from his body. He finished up before the water could turn cold, stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist. Ran both hands through his hair to squeeze out the excess water, and didn’t bother to wipe the steam from the pitted mirror—didn’t much want to look at himself anyway.

Lights out before opening the door (too many years in shared rooms made that a habit), and just a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the dark before he stepped out into the artificial chill of the room.

And walked face-first into six feet and four inches of solid muscle.

“Sam!”

Sam didn’t answer Dean’s surprised exhalation or make any move to steady his brother, just stood there, arms loose at his sides, fingers slightly curled, staring down at his brother.

“Sam?” Still no answer, so Dean moved to go around, but Sam moved with him, hand on the doorjamb to keep Dean from passing. Dean turned, went for the other side, but Sam blocked him again, two hands now, trapping Dean in the bathroom doorway, and way too almost-naked to be standing this close to Sam. Anger seemed like a good idea. “Dude. What the fuck? Move.”

“Is there anyone you won’t give it up for?” Sam’s voice was low, grating and angry, and harsher than a whisper in the quiet cold of the room.

“…What?”

“Anyone besides me, I mean?”

Dean couldn’t breathe, quick flash of anger draining away. Sam’s eyes were furious now, glaring into Dean’s. He couldn’t be afraid of Sam, but he had no idea why his brother was so angry, and that made him take a step back. 

Sam stopped him again, massive hand at Dean’s neck. “No. Anytime, anywhere. Dean Winchester’s always up for it, isn’t he?” Sam jerked Dean closer by the throat, pulling him off balance and stealing his breath again before turning and slamming him into the nearest wall. “Do you even make them buy you a drink first, anymore?”

Dean’s hands are on Sam’s, trying to peel stubborn fingers away from this throat, and he’s suddenly angry again. “Fuck you! It’s none of your damn b—”

Sam squeezes, cutting off his words. “No. It’s yours, isn’t it? Hustling pool not enough anymore?”

“You’re an asshole. Get. The fuck. Off of me!” He aims a quick jab at Sam’s stomach, but Sam’s ready for it, blocks the hit then pins Dean’s arm to the wall with the hand not currently choking him.

“You’ll spread those pretty pink lips for anyone else, so you’re gonna spread ‘em for me. Now get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Hands at Dean’s throat and wrist and Sam’s pushing him down, bringing a heel to the back of Dean’s knee and collapsing his leg when he resists. Dean goes down hard, knees hitting a floor barely cushioned by too-thin carpet, hands still trying to break Sam’s hold. Sam just squeezes harder, pinning Dean to the wall behind him with a growled “try to hit me again and I’ll tie you up,” and releases Dean’s wrist to pull his dripping cock out of his boxers. Dean struggles harder, head twisting side to side trying to break Sam’s grip, lips tightly closed, fighting what’s coming.

Fighting it, even as he’s gagging for it.

Sam grabs his chin, holds his head still, giant hand long enough to grip most of Dean’s jaw, squeezes until Dean gasps at the pressure, mouth opening, and Sam thrusts inside.

Dean goes limp as soon as Sam’s slipping across his tongue. Sam’s thrusting, shallow and slow to start, and Dean just moans and takes him deeper.

“I knew it,” Sam gasps, hands in Dean’s hair now, clenching and holding his head still. “I knew you’d be such a pretty little cockslut, Dean, letting me fuck your mouth. Did you do this already tonight, Dean? Did you let that guy you were with use you like this?”

Dean’s lost, been desperate for Sam’s cock in his mouth for so long. He wants to explore every ridge and vein, tongue the slit at the head of Sam’s cock, suck and lick and find out what makes his brother crazy. But Sam’s got him pinned and held fast, stuffed full of cock, and all Dean can do is take it. So he tastes as best he can, tongue sliding along the thick vein on the underside of Sam’s cock as Sam thrusts in and out. Dean’s hands come up, wrap around the backs of Sam’s thighs, digging into the muscle there and pulling Sam closer, trying to take him deeper. He can barely breathe, Sam’s in so far already, but Dean wants _more_. Above him, Sam’s talking, curses and promises, fingers twisting Dean’s hair. 

“I know you sucked him off, Dean, know you…_fuck_…know you swallowed him down like the greedy whore you are. But you didn’t let him do this, did you?”

_ No, Sammy, only you, _ Dean tries to tell him, sound stopped in his throat and coming out as a moan. He tries to shake his head, _No, Sammy, no_, but Sam’s holding him too tight and he can’t do that either. So he relaxes, lets Sam go deeper, tries to show him the only way he can.

Sam’s getting close now, pounding faster, balls tightening, and Dean’s jaw is aching and he knows he’ll feel this for days. His own cock is hard, jutting out against the towel and aching for release, but he can’t let go of Sam.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth, Dean, make you drink it all down.” Sam’s grip tightens and his voice drops to a whisper, low, but Dean can still hear it: “Want it to be me you go to sleep thinking about tonight.” Sam thrusts deep, one more time, and comes, Dean’s mouth stretched to the limit, lips thin around Sam’s huge cock. Liquid heat hits the back of Dean’s throat, fills his mouth as he struggling to swallow around Sam’s cock. And then Sam’s pulling out, still coming, the last few pulses splashing across Dean’s face, dripping down his cheeks and chin.

Sam is still now, and Dean kneels still below him, waits for Sam to move, but he doesn’t. So Dean shifts, one hand moving towards his own still-throbbing cock, looking up at Sam in clear invitation before cupping himself through the loosening towel.

Sam watches, eyes sliding from Dean’s come-splattered face down to his stroking hand. Watches for a second and then steps back. “No,” he whispers. “No.”

Dean watches as his brother turns, walks into the bathroom and stops. Sam speaks to him over his shoulder.

“Not until you’re mine.”

And he closes the door.


End file.
